


homely surroundings

by epifania



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 09:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14185947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epifania/pseuds/epifania
Summary: Steve’s earliest memory is a series of snapshots. It's all a bit blurry, like a dream the details of which you can't quite remember, but for the rest of Steve’s life this will be what “happy” feels like.





	homely surroundings

**Author's Note:**

> > publish a christmas fanfic on easter  
> > confuse the shit out of everyone  
> > ???  
> > profit
> 
> for real though, i got a new computer recently, which forced me to go through the tons of shit I has stashed on the old one, which in turn lead me to finding this little secret santa fic I did for someone back in 2015. thought it's decent enough to publish. idk man. it's really old.
> 
> pre-civil war, obviously.

**1922**.

Steve’s earliest memory is a series of snapshots:

 

mountains and forests and stars painted in ice on his bedroom windows when he wakes up on Christmas morning;

the smell of pines and candles as he decorates the tree;

the warmth from the fireplace;

the colorful ornaments twinkling in candlelight, making the Christmas tree look like the night sky full of stars;

grandmother’s chatter buzzing from the kitchen, where she’s preparing the meat they can’t really afford but it’s Christmas so they will make do somehow;

the familiar smell of fresh bread mixed with the strong scent of eggnog;

someone singing softly, a quiet song about a baby born in a shed lulling him to sleep;

sitting on mother’s lap at a table with so much food on it that he honestly believed the whole town will be visiting them;

mother’s loud, vibrant laughter.

 

It's all a bit blurry, like a dream the details of which you can't quite remember, but for the rest of Steve’s life this will be what “happy” feels like.

 

  1. **1940**.



Winter is harsh and cruel this year, and so overwhelmingly cold.

 _Or maybe it’s me_ , thinks Steve, as he stares at his parents’ twin graves on Christmas morning. It’s the wind that makes him shiver, he tells himself, and he will not cry, he _won’t cry_. He puts a fresh bouquet of lilies between the graves, touches his mom’s tombstone and tries not to think about a lifetime of lonely Christmases to come.

“Well. Merry Christmas, guys. I hope you… have a nice holiday, wherever you are. At least you are together now,” he says, and after a few more moments he turns on his heel with a solemn bow of his head. He’s never had to be truly alone on such a day and frankly, he has no clue what to do except maybe curl up on his ratty couch and drown his sorrows in whiskey.

He’s so deep in thought that he literally bumps into Bucky at the graveyard’s gates.

“Jesus, watch it!” Bucky exclaims and grabs his shoulders to stabilize him. He’s about to scold Steve for being careless, but it takes just one look at his friend’s bleak expression for Bucky to turn serious. “Uh, hey. I thought I’d find you here. You okay?”

“Yeah. More or less, but I guess… yeah. I am.”

Bucky squints at Steve for a moment, disbelieving, and Steve is about to say something, _anything_ to stop him from pitying him, but then Buck’s face breaks into a grin.

“Well, good. Would be a damn shame if your somber mood ruined the dinner tonight.”

“The… what?”

“Um, the Christmas dinner? Party at the Barnes’s? Please, Steve, you thought I’m gonna let you spend the holidays alone?  I’m offended, it’s like you don’t know me at all!”

Steve shakes his head, but he can’t hold back a smile.

“Shit, Buck, I don’t know. I have plans for today.”

“Let me guess, sulking alone with alcohol?”  

 “Piss off, it’s a perfectly good way to spend your evening.” By now Steve’s grinning as widely as his friend, and silently thanks God for his presence. He honestly doesn’t know where he’d be without Bucky now.

“Yeah, well, you got no choice, man.  I already told my mom we’ll be having you over and she’ll be awfully disappointed if you bail.”

“Well.” Steve shakes his head, but there’s a fond smile on lips. “One can’t say no to that.”

“I knew you’d come to your senses, man. Hey, let’s go grab a drink now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. I think I could use one. Let’s go.”

Bucky claps his shoulder with a smile, and if he notices the tears pooling in Steve’s eyes, he pretends not to, for which Steve is eternally grateful. They turn from the graveyard and head to the city arm to arm.

Suddenly the lifetime of Christmases to come doesn’t seem so lonely anymore.   

 

 **1943**.

Steve doesn’t even realize it’s Christmas until Peggy sticks her head inside the his tent one morning and reminds him not to miss the little party they’re having later in the evening. He lifts his head from his sketchbook with a look of utter puzzlement on his face and Peggy bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, Carter, laugh at my expanse, sure”, he scoffs, but a small smile creeps up on his face. Peggy hardly ever laughs so earnestly these days and he’s glad to see her loosen up a bit. “Seriously though, a party? Is it somebody’s birthday or something?”

“Um, yeah? Does name ‘Jesus’ ring any bells?”

“What? Is it really Christmas today?” Steve can’t quite believe it, but he does some quick math and well, it does add up. He shakes his head, surprised. “Huh. I completely lost track of dates. I was only vaguely aware that it’s… probably December.” 

“Why, mister Rogers. Am I to understand you forgot to get me a gift?” Peggy pouts at him with a teasing glint in her eyes. Honestly, sometimes he can’t believe how utterly adorable she can be.  

“Now, miss Carter, I didn’t say that. A gentleman such as myself is always prepared.”

Peggy’s eyes light up at that.

“Hey, watch it Rogers. I might hold you up on that. Okay, but seriously – be there, okay? Gotta run now, see you in the evening!”

She’s gone before Steve can reply, so he just shakes his head and goes back to his drawing.

***

It’s difficult to call what they have a “party”, really, when it’s just a group of higher ranked officers gathered in Colonel Phillips’s tent. They share a meal composed of their regular rations, toast to the wellbeing of their families celebrating the holidays across the Atlantic and to the hopefully imminent end of the war, and exchange whatever happy stories come to their minds. It’s nothing special, but Steve genuinely enjoys himself. It doesn’t matter how you spend Christmas as long as you do it with people you care about, he supposes, and smiles to himself as he watches Bucky talk to Peggy animatedly – undoubtedly telling some story that’s supposed to embarrass him, judging by the way they glance at him and giggle every few seconds.

When the party is over and everyone goes their separate ways, Steve surprises Peggy and catches her in front of her tent.

“Told you I’m always prepared, didn’t I?” he says and hands her a carefully folded piece of paper. Peggy is shocked that he actually managed to get her anything at all, but when she sees what exactly it is, she’s positively stunned.

She stares at her own smiling face shown from half profile. The portrait is perfect with its smooth, soft lines and delicate shading. Somehow, Steve managed to capture the very life in her eyes so well that it almost feels like looking in a mirror.

Steve watches Peggy’s reaction with a careful smile. It turns into a full blown grin when she finally lifts her head up and looks at him. There is something so intense in her eyes that he feels a blush creeping on his face.

“Steve, this is… incredible. I mean, I knew you were good, but this? Wow, I… I’m not even sure what to say.” She can’t quite stop glancing down at the drawing. “Did you make it today?”

Steve actually blushes now and scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Ah… actually no, I drew it… some time ago… it’s been sitting in my sketchbook for a while.” Truth was, he drew this particular picture even before the serum, but Peggy definitely didn’t need to know that. “I’m just glad you like it.”

“Are you kidding me? I love it!” Peggy tucks the drawing carefully into her inside pocket and before Steve can do anything she stands on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. The both choose not to dwell on the fact that she lingers a bit longer than necessary.

“Thank you, Steve, I mean it. And merry Christmas. Hopefully we’ll celebrate the next one in more… homely surroundings.” With that she smiles at him one last time and disappears in her tent.

Steve touches his cheek tentatively and smiles to himself. In this moment he really believes that everything will be alright.

 

 **2012**.

Steve spends his first Christmas in the future alone.

It’s just… too loud, too bright, _too much_. He’s been awake for a few months and he supposes he should be used to the 21 st century by now, especially after New York. Yet here he is, sitting alone in his apartment on December 25th, nursing a bottle of whisky and trying to remember what it felt like to spend the day with his family.

It’s not that he has no other options. He does, actually, and quite a lot of them – he’s an Avenger after all, and that means hundreds of fancy parties and galas to attend. A few days back he received a formal invitation to a private S.H.I.E.L.D. party held in the Avengers Tower. Then Peggy’s family asked if he had someone to spend the holidays with and invited him to join them, but he politely declined both offers.

Sometimes it’s just better to alone.  

 

 **2015**.

Apparently Steve is the last one to show up at Barton’s place. When he pulls up  next to the farmhouse a number of vehicles are already parked around it. He spots one of Stark’s least extravagant cars (a clear sign that it was Pepper that chose their means of transport, knowing Tony’s fondness for dramatic entries he’d probably go for a helicarrier bigger than the damn house) and almost feels bad for getting there even later than the guy famous for being late. It’s something he always scolds Tony for and he’s sure Romanoff will somehow turn this into yet another Avengers-exclusive inside joke, but he figures getting some last minute gifts for the Barton kids is a valid excuse.

He grabs the duffel bag stuffed with gifts and makes it to the door. He takes a moment to admire the house before he knocks. Clint really outdid himself this year… or, more likely, talked Tony into helping him decorate it at the last minute. Either way, the colorful lights hung on the porch and windows are really beautiful and with the fresh snow and a full moon lighting up the sky they make Steve feel like he stepped right inside an old school Christmas postcard. He can hear muffled music and familiar voices chattering and laughing inside and he can’t help but smile.

It’s Natasha that opens the door and lets him in.

“Look who decided to grace us with his presence after all”, she teases. Steve just lifts his bag a little higher and her face lights up. “Ooh, are those gifts? Okay, you’re forgiven. Hey guys, looks like Santa’s here!”

A chorus of hellos and nice-to-see-yous greets him when Nat leads him into the living room. He dumps the gifts under the Christmas tree, already surrounded with various bags and packages, winking at Lila and Cooper who are eyeing the presents longingly from their seats. A cup of eggnog levitates towards him in wisps of red light and he looks up to see Wanda smile at him from the couch she’s occupying with Vision. Sam clasps his hand but after a moment mutters “ you know what, fuck it” and gives him a tight hug. Even Thor left Asgard for tonight, and apparently he grabbed Jane on his way because Steve spots him in the kitchen with his arm around a rather petite brunette, trying to talk Laura into putting a bottle of some suspicious-looking Asgardian alcohol on the table. Steve catches “traditional” and “older than all your holidays combined” and “absolutely not, Thor, there will be no drinking around children” and shakes his head fondly.

When all greetings and wishes are exchanged and they all finally sit down for the holiday dinner, Steve takes a look around, his eyes lingering on each smiling face. This is my family, he realizes suddenly, and for a few seconds his vision gets a bit blurry. Natasha, seated on his right, lifts an eyebrow questioningly at his expression, but he shakes his head and gives her a genuine, if slightly watery, smile. He is sitting at the table, surrounded by his family. The air smells like pines and eggnog, Billy Holiday is singing softly from Clint’s old record player, though he can barely hear her over the sound of people talking around him. The lights on the Christmas tree remind him of stars on a clear night.

This, Steve thinks, is what “happy” feels like.     


End file.
